


Misadventures

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual B. J. Hunnicutt, Bisexual Hawkeye Pierce, Canon Compliant, Canon Era, Coda, Episode: s09e01 The Best of Enemies, Established Relationship, M/M, queer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 10:16:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17222084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: “What happened?” BJ asks again, though from the look on Hawkeye’s face, he isn’t sure he wants the answer to the question.“What always happens,” Hawk says, finally meeting BJ’s eye. “The war.”Tag to "The Best of Enemies"





	Misadventures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



Hawkeye is still asleep when BJ comes back from breakfast, sprawled out on his army cot and dead to the world. Hawkeye looks so peaceful that BJ can’t bring himself to wake him.

BJ walks over, leaning down to pull the blanket up over Hawk’s shoulder, and stops cold, staring down at Hawkeye’s hand on the pillow next to his face. It’s a hand that BJ knows well, one that saves lives and performs miracles, but there’s something off about it that BJ can’t place.

And then it dawns on him, and he has to sit down in Hawkeye’s chair when he gets it, because there’s dried blood under Hawk’s fingernails, where it has no right being.

“What the hell happened to you out there?” BJ asks softly, not wanting to wake Hawkeye up. “You were supposed to be in Seoul.”

Hawk doesn’t _look_ injured as far as BJ can tell, doesn’t have so much as a hickey on his neck, so why is there blood on his hands?

BJ puts a gentle hand out, feeling a sudden need to touch Hawkeye, to know that he’s real, because BJ could still be dreaming, couldn’t he? But if this is a dream, the land of Nod has never seemed so real.

“Beej?” Hawk mumbles, shifting in his sleep. He’s restless, and even in sleep, he has a trouble frown on his face, his brow furrowed.

“It’s okay, Hawk,” BJ says, stroking a hand over Hawk’s hair, trying not to think about how much more silver is in it now, and trying even harder not to think about he didn’t notice it until now. “It’s okay.”

It happens too quickly for BJ’s brain to register, but in a flurry of bedclothes and fluffy hair and wild eyes, Hawkeye Pierce comes back to life.

He’s gripping BJ’s arm, hard enough to bruise, his fingernails digging into BJ’s skin. BJ’s heart is pounding, not so much at the unexpected resurrection, but at the wide-eyed look of terror and despair on Hawkeye’s face.

Hawkeye is breathing heavily, but the look of fear on his face shifts to one of confusion as he looks at BJ. “Beej?” he asks, his voice uncertain and shaky.

“Hey stranger,” BJ says, before gesturing to the hand on his arm. “Hell of an imitation of a blood pressure cuff you’ve got there.”

“Oh, oh God, sorry Beej.” Hawkeye lets go, looking like he’s closing in on himself. “Sorry, I just…”

“Nightmare.”

Hawkeye nods. BJ reaches out, taking Hawk’s hand in his and running his thumb over Hawk’s knuckles, still seeing the rusty blood under the nails. “What the hell happened out there, Hawk?”

Hawk doesn’t meet his eyes, swallowing audibly. “My trip to Seoul got a little delayed,” he says, forced cheer in his voice.

“What happened?” BJ asks again, though from the look on Hawkeye’s face, he isn’t sure he wants the answer to the question.

“What always happens,” Hawk says, finally meeting BJ’s eye. “The war.”

BJ squeezes Hawk’s hand. “Want to talk about it?”

“I got pulled over. Only instead of a fine, a North Korean soldier put a gun to my head and took me into the woods.” BJ’s mouth drops open as Hawk snorts, shaking his head. “Never get a speeding ticket in Korea.”

BJ has to swallow hard, and it feels like there’s a lump of ice sitting in his belly, freezing him from the inside out. “Jesus Christ, Hawkeye.”

“He was out to lunch,” Hawk says, the corner of his mouth twitching so that it almost resembles a smile, but it quickly drops off his face.

“So what happened?”

Hawkeye raises an eyebrow. “You sure you want to hear this, Beej? It’s not exactly a good bedtime story.”

“Well that’s fine,” BJ tells him. “It’s daytime anyway.”

Hawkeye clears his throat. “So, this soldier walks me into the woods, I’ve got my hands up like Notre Dame just scored a touchdown, and instead of performing elective surgery on my head with his gun… he shows me an injured friend of his.”

“He stopped you because you were a doctor,” BJ says.

“And thank God, I was. If I was a regular soldier, I’d never have made it back to this humble hovel.”

BJ can’t fathom it. “So what you’re telling me is you could’ve died within the last twenty-four hours, and none of us ever would’ve known about it. Am I getting this straight?”

“Believe me, Beej, I was doing my best not to.”

“Is that why you’ve got blood on your hands?”

Hawkeye’s frown deepens, his brow furrowing. “It’s one reason.”

BJ is afraid to ask, because he knows the look Hawkeye is wearing. It’s a combination of anger and despair with a healthy dose of guilt, a potent cocktail every doctor knows. He stills asks, “And the patient?”

Hawkeye shakes his head. “He didn’t make it.”

“God, Hawk… I’m sorry.”

Hawkeye musters up a smile. “Don’t be sorry, Beej. I probably did us a favour! One less person running around drumming up business for us, right?”

“Hawkeye,” BJ says, squeezing Hawk’s hand again, trying to ignore how Hawk flinches under his touch. “Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself.”

“But I shouldn’t care, right? He was a North Korean, and if you read the papers, they’re supposed to be the enemy.”

“He was your patient.” This stops Hawkeye from arguing further, so he just ducks his head. But something is niggling at BJ, a persistent itch that needs scratching. “And what about the other North Korean soldier? Did he just let you go, after all that?”

“Yeah.” Hawk laughs, short and sharp like breaking bones. “He did.”

“He’s just getting off scot free?” BJ asks incredulously. “He was going to kill you!”

“Can you blame him though, Beej?” Hawk asks in return. “He was just trying to help his buddy. Emotions and logic are on two different radio waves. Even in North Korea. And when it’s your buddy bleeding out on that table, you get desperate, you know that.”

“But still-”

“Are you saying you wouldn’t do the same thing for me?” Hawkeye asks.

BJ lifts Hawk’s hand to his mouth, and kisses it, gently, and Hawkeye doesn’t fully smile, but his eyes crinkle at the corner like he’s suppressing a laugh. “You know I would. But it won’t happen.”

Hawk rolls his eyes. “Beej, didn’t your mother ever teach you about not counting chickens before they’ve hatched?”

BJ kisses Hawk’s hand again, meeting his eyes. It chills BJ to the bone, knowing that Hawk could have died yesterday while everyone at the 4077th was occupied with a silly bridge tournament, and at the same time warms him from the inside out that Hawkeye is alive and well and _here_.

“I guess with you, it’s easy to take for granted,” Hawkeye murmurs, bringing BJ out of his thoughts with a jolt. “This idea that we have a surplus of tomorrows or something.”

“Hawk-”

“But we don’t, do we?” Hawk continues. “All we’ve really got is a surplus of yesterdays.”

“I don’t care about any of that.”

Hawk blinks. “Huh?”

“What I care about is that it is today, and I’ve got you here. And you’re alive, and you’re safe, and in one piece.” He sees Hawk’s mouth twist. “Physically anyway.”

Hawk smiles at last. “I am here. So are you.”

BJ uses his other hand to cup Hawkeye’s face. “Then that’s what counts, right?”

Hawkeye is staring at him, and then he smiles, a real and glorious smile. “Yes.”

BJ starts to lean in, as he brushes his thumb over Hawk’s cheek, and then stops. “Hawk?”

Hawk opens his eyes, giving BJ an annoyed frown. “What?”

“I still want to knock the stuffing out of him.”

Hawkeye laughs, and for a second, the war fades. “Can you at least kiss me first?”

BJ nods, the lump in his throat too hard for him to form words, so instead he leans in and presses a very gentle kiss to the tip of Hawkeye’s nose, and then kissing him again on the scar above his lip. Hawkeye whines, and BJ can’t help but laugh as he kisses Hawkeye for real.

Hawkeye is passionate and frantic with his kisses, biting at BJ’s lower lip, biting harder when BJ groans into his mouth. It’s all achingly bittersweet, soft kisses with a sharp edge of fear and pain, and when BJ pulls away, he has to lean his forehead against Hawk’s to catch his breath.

“So,” Hawkeye says with a smirk, somehow not sounding like he’s just been kissed within an inch of his life the way BJ has. “What’s this I hear about you winning a bridge tournament?”

BJ can’t do anything but laugh.

And just like that, everything’s fine.


End file.
